


5 Times Christian Shephard Made A Connection

by Kayim



Category: Lost
Genre: 5 Things, Drabble Sequence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-03
Updated: 2009-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-04 03:17:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim





	5 Times Christian Shephard Made A Connection

1.  
"You had me fly all the way out here for this?" Christian sounded incredulous. The phone call had come through on his private number four days earlier - international from Korea - and within hours he was at LAX boarding a plane. Paik was not a man to be trifled with, and Christian knew that he couldn't refuse the "request". The stakes involved were too high. "I don't deal with fertility issues," he told the businessman as they sat facing each other on opposite sides of the huge desk. "Especially not in terms of preventing fertility."

Paik simply stared.

Moments passed in silence, until finally Christian caved.

"Fine," he snapped. "Give me a couple of hours in the lab and I'll come up with something. We've got some research notes on the use of unripened papaya that we might be able to use."

"I don't need to know the details," Paik stated calmly, as though this wasn't his daughter's future he was ruining. "Just make it happen."

 

2\.   
They were too young to have been on the plane by themselves, Carole knew that, but she had honestly believed that Emma and Zack would be okay. After all, their grandmother had put them on the plane in Sydney and she herself had been waiting at LAX to collect them. She still went there, every week, standing in the arrivals lounge, watching, waiting, hoping.

She refused to believe it, until she received the phone call. She sobbed as she listened to the woman on the other end of the line telling her what they had found under the ocean in that damn trench. Her only consolation, as slight as it was, was that her babies had been together at the end.

It took her another week before she could bear to make the phonecall to their father. He wasn't around much - hadn't seen either of the children since Zack was two - but he was still their father and still deserved to know. She dialled the only number she had for him.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this," another woman at the end of another line said to her, "but Dr Shephard died of a heart attack on September 15th."

 

3.  
"He ignored him," the woman screamed at Christian. "He saw the pretty blond girl and ignored my husband. Left him to die."

Christian reached out a hand to her, but she pulled away. The woman took a few steps backwards, the back of her legs catching on the chair behind her, and slumped down, her head in her hands as she wept.

Her daughter, young, beautiful, innocent, stood facing him, defiance etched into her delicate features. "I need to know how my Daddy died," she stated, her voice catching slightly on the final word. "Did that other doctor leave him to die?"

Christian shook his head. "Dr Shephard did the best he could in the situation," he insisted, even if he didn't truly believe the words himself. "He had difficult decisions to make - decisions which, tragically, led to the death of your father."

The girl closed her eyes. "Adam Rutherford," she said. "Make sure he knows the name of the man he killed."

 

4.  
The Pontiac wasn't the model of car Christian would have picked if he'd had any say in the decision. But by the time he got to the rental lot, it was late, it was dark and it was raining.

"I'm afraid we're almost out of vehicles today," the brunette behind the counter said, looking at her watch as though it was past closing time.

"I just need a damn car," he snapped at her. All he wanted to do was get back to the hotel and have a shot or two of whiskey. He really didn't care what he was driving.

The Pontiac was gold colored and carried a stench inside it that Christian felt would stay on him for days. With one hand on the wheel, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small bottle of vodka that the steward had given him on the plane earlier that day. It was a cheap brand, probably tasted like nail varnish remover, but it would help calm him down. He struggled with the screw-top lid, desperation welling up inside him.

He only took his eyes off the road for a moment, but that moment was exactly the same one that saw Michael Dawson storm across the road after an argument with his girlfriend.

As he heard the stomach-turning thump of the man hitting the windshield, Christian's initial thought was Oh God, not again.

 

5.  
Christian was becoming concerned, not that he would admit it out loud. Between the phone calls from Paik and the emails from Widmore, he had finally realized that he was getting dragged too deeply into something he wasn't sure he wanted to be involved in. But like many such situations, once you were in, it was near impossible to leave,

He unfolded the sheet of paper, studying the face that looked back at him. All he had was a first name and a syringe filled with something he didn't want to think too hard about. He had done enough work in connection with the institute in the past that he knew he could complete this "task" without having to answer too many questions - that was the main reason he'd been told to come here.

He wondered for a brief second what the poor boy had done to deserve a fate like this, but he quickly banished the thought. He didn't think they could read his mind, at least not yet, but he hadn't gotten where he was today by being careless. He took one last look at the face before folding the paper back up and slipping it neatly into his jacket pocket.

"I'm sorry, Hugo," he said as he stepped out of the car and walked towards the Santa Rosa Mental Institute.


End file.
